


Sleep Without You

by ElleMartin



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: But not that kind of daddy, Daddy Draco, Domestic Fluff, EWE, F/M, Post-Hogwarts, mentions of miscarriages, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25436215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElleMartin/pseuds/ElleMartin
Summary: Domestic Dramione one shot inspired by the song Sleep Without You by Brett Young.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 25
Kudos: 185





	Sleep Without You

**Author's Note:**

> My sister died one year ago today and it messed me up. This is for her. Much thanks and love to those that have reached out and supported me through this, especially dramione84 and iwasbotwp for the beta work and Britpicking.

_ “Never thought I would be like this, Wide awake waiting on a goodnight kiss…” _

-Brett Young

“Are you sure you’ve got this?” 

Draco was not paying any attention. His eyes were too busy following the tanned line of his wife’s muscled calf as she fiddled with the buckle of her shoe. Satisfied, she stood, her hands splayed on her hips as she waited for his response. Her own eyes narrowed as his trailed upwards to stare lustily at her thigh currently playing peekaboo from the slit of her dress. 

“Draco?”

Uh-oh. He knew that tone. “Huh?” he asked oh so eloquently. 

Hermione sighed. “Maybe I should just stay home.” 

“What? Why?” Draco rushed over, took her arm, and began steering her towards their bedroom door and out into the hall. “Hermione, you haven’t had a night out by yourself since the twins were born. You deserve this.” 

“But are you sure?” she asked. “Three kids is a lot of work for two of us. I feel awful leaving you here to wrangle them alone.”   
  


“I assure you that I would much rather be tackling our three  _ Fantastic Beasts _ than spending a night playing nice with the entire Weasley clan.”

“But I don’t know how late I’ll be,” Hermione protested. “Fleur was actually talking about going to a dance club. What would I do at a dance club, I ask you? I’m an old married woman!”

Draco surveyed her lithe figure in the curve-hugging dress that Hermione was trying unsuccessfully to pull further down her thighs without her tits popping out. “Old you are not, Mrs. Malfoy. In fact, you are far too tempting in that dress. Maybe you should skip out on tonight, and just stay home with me.” He shot her his most lascivious grin and waggled his eyebrows at her for just the right amount of seductive emphasis. 

“Oh, go on you,” Hermione scoffed with a stifled laugh. “I’m just being a fuddy duddy, I know. I can’t miss Gabrielle’s hen do, I can’t. Gin’s already confided to me that Gabrielle frets that I don’t approve of her and Ron. It’ll be a good show of faith and camaraderie and all that if I participate tonight.”

“That’s the spirit,” Draco said. “Do it for England. Or France. Or whatever. Just have fun tonight. I mean it. Go, laugh, get a bit pissed, and then come back to your brood.”

“I love my brood.” Hermione moved in close to Draco, smiling up at him. She wrapped her arms around his waist. 

“Your brood loves you.” He bent down and gave her a small kiss before a small crash followed by childish squalls and yelling interrupted what had been shaping up to be a very lovely moment. “Now go before you get wrapped up in whatever that was.” Draco swatted playfully at Hermione’s bottom. She giggled and dodged as she rushed down the stairs. “Hurry!” Draco yelled. “Save yourself!” 

“I love you!” Hermione called one last time as she raced out the door. Draco sighed and made his way to the playroom to face whatever horrors awaited him. 

“Hullo loves, what have you been up to?” He snatched the teddy away from the grubby hands of the one year old twins, Eliza and Edie. “No more tug of war for you two,” he said as the girls both squawked their displeasure at him. “And I assume this was the culprit of the crash I heard?” he asked looking at the tumped over box of blocks. He knelt down and began putting the blocks back in their bin. “Scorp, a little help?” His poor son seemed to have confined himself to the furthest corner from his little sisters and was intently focused on a coloring book and steadily ignoring Draco. Draco didn’t fault his son. It was hard to be five and constantly ganged up on by his younger sisters. He checked his watch. 

“How about dinner?” Draco asked. “Who wants cheese toasties?” 

Ten minutes later, he had all of the children seated at the small dining table in the kitchen. The girls were strapped into their boosters. Eliza was happily guzzling her milk, while Edie was determinedly shoving a wedge of cheese toasty in her mouth. 

“Edie, no, not the whole thing,” Draco tsked, removing the triangle from her mouth before she choked. He started breaking it into slightly smaller pieces. “You’ve got to remember to chew,” he said as he handed her a piece of bread. She shot him a look that clearly said “I know more than you,” and shoved three of the newly torn pieces into her mouth. Draco sighed. He hated the toddler stage. He looked over at Scorpius to reassure him that, yes, this stage would end, and one day sooner than he could blink, his daughters would be like their brother, eating proper bites and drinking milk without dribbling most of it down their chins. Instead, they’d be wiping their mouth like properly raised children, and saying “May I be excused?”

“What?” Draco was startled.”But we’ve just sat down.”

“I’m full,” Scorpius said with a little shrug as though that should be incredibly obvious thirty seconds after he took his first bite. 

“Sure, son, you may be excused.” and Scorpius traipsed off back upstairs leaving Draco alone with the twins who were babbling away betwixt themselves. Draco checked his watch again. In one hour, he’d have the girls in bed, Scorp in the bath, and dreaming of the whisky he’d be sipping soon. Tick tock, tick tock…

He got the girls bathed with only minimal splashing to his own person. Granted, minimal still meant quite a bit. Once the girls were out of the tub, dressed in their fleecy footed pyjamas, and working on their nighttime bottles that they really should be weaned from any day now, Draco ran a new bath with plenty of bubbles for Scorpius. Thankfully, his son could bathe himself, and so Draco left him to go tuck the girls into their cribs. 

“Okay, story time,” he told the twins. 

“Mumma?” Edie called out. 

“Mumma!!” Eliza echoed. 

“No Mumma,” Draco said. “Only Dada tonight. Sorry ladies.”

“Mumma!” Edie whined. 

“Mumma ‘tory!” Eliza added. 

“I told you, Mumma’s out tonight. I’ll be doing story time this evening, or no story at all.” He knew it was an empty threat, but part of him still hoped it’d get his girls in line. 

“Tay,” Eliza said but her face told him that she was none too keen on Dada being the evening’s storyteller. Draco reckoned she’d be filing a complaint with management first thing in the morning. Edie let out one more call for her mother, then quieted down. 

“Now, let’s see.” Draco cracked open the book. “What are we reading tonight? Oh, yes, here we are. ‘Brown bear, brown bear, what do you see?’ A classic, or so I’m told.”

“Dada, bear.” Edie said. Draco chalked up another complaint hitting the box in the morning. 

“Everyone’s a critic,” he muttered before continuing on with the story. He left the girls still babbling to each other quietly like they thought Draco couldn’t hear them, and went to tuck his son into bed.

“Do you want a story or a lullaby tonight, son?”

Scorpius gazed up at Draco with his wide grey eyes and sighed. “I want Mum,” he said. “Sorry, Dad.”

“It’s okay,” Draco said as he took a seat atop Scorpius’ toy chest. “You’ve never not had your mother here to tuck you in.”

“And give me my kiss,” Scorpius added mournfully. “What if I can’t sleep without one of Mum’s famous goodnight kisses?”

“Well, I can’t promise that my kisses are famous, but I’ll do my best if you’ll let me.”

“But you give the good sleep kisses, Dad. Mum gives the good dreams.”

“I’ll just have to give you extras then!” Draco said with a laugh. He leaned in. “Now, here’s two kisses on your right cheek, and two for your left.” He pecked his son’s cheeks with noisy little smacks. “And now your brain. I’ll give you two there as well.” Smack! Smack! 

Scorpius giggled. “Better make it four. I need extra good dreams tonight.”

“Four it is then!” Smack! Smack! “Anymore?”

“No, that should do.” Scorpius smiled. “I can feel the good dreams working already.”

“Oh, perfect. I’ll just leave you to it then. Goodnight.”

“Thanks Dad. I love you the most.”

“Ahh,” Draco grinned. “I love you the most too. Just don’t tell your mum.”

“I won’t.” With one last sleepy smile for his father, Scorpius rolled onto his side and closed his eyes and Draco slipped out the door, shutting it quietly behind him. He poked his head into the girls’ room, careful not to let too much light in. The chatters had stopped, and both girls were fast asleep. Draco slid back out. He’d done it. He’d easily managed all three kids by himself. Time to celebrate with a small tumbler of whisky before carting himself to bed.

He settled himself down in his favorite squashy chair, kicked his feet up on the coffee table, and took a long, satisfying pull of his drink, savoring the way it burned down his throat. The leather of the chair was cool against the skin of his neck as he rested his head and closed his eyes. Quiet. Blissful quiet. Peace.

His eyes popped back open. It was too quiet, almost unnervingly so. Surely he should check on the kids again. They shouldn’t be this quiet. He shook his head. No, this was normal. His kids were great sleepers, always had been. Once they settled, they were out till the sun came up. It was just Draco that was bothered. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been essentially home alone.

It was sad really. Or maybe sad wasn’t the right word for it exactly. He and Hermione had met up again a few years after the war. He’d been in a bad place, and Hermione had helped him through it. He’d cherished her friendship, he really had. Still did. Draco never would have believed back then that he would be here today to enjoy this domestic bliss. He still couldn’t believe that she’d ever accepted his invitation to have dinner that first time as something maybe possibly a little more than just the friends they’d been. But she had, and they’d fallen deeply in love. Then she’d surprised him even more by accepting his proposal and becoming his wife. It hadn’t always been easy. She challenged him almost daily in the beginning, and he’d sure aggravated her as much as he could. But somehow, against all odds and wagers, they kept fighting for each other rather than against each other. 

Then came the first positive pregnancy test. Then the loss almost as soon as they’d dared to dream about the little toes that were taking shape. Then the cycle repeated. And again. And Draco and Hermione clung even tighter to each other. They stopped going out as much with friends. They traveled, just the two of them, to as many exotic locations as they could think of to take their minds off of things. Hermione had given up hope of ever becoming a mother and had accepted that she would be the most amazing aunt and godmother that her friends’ kids would want for. Draco, unbeknownst to Hermione, still prayed to whomever felt like listening that he would really love the chance to be a better father than he’d had. 

Oh, sure, Lucius had been a fine father, and for most of Draco’s upbringing he had truly believed that there was no finer father than Lucius Malfoy. But now that his prayers had been answered threefold, Draco knew that Lucius’ brand of parenting was not something Draco ever wanted to emulate. He spoiled his children with hugs and kisses instead of material things. He chose to raise them in a modest home, though Hermione still thought it a mansion. Most of all, he would never let his children believe that anyone was lesser than them just because of their blood. And Draco would rather die a thousand times over before allowing his children to brand themselves in devout service to a monster. That was something that could rot in the dirt with the Dark Lord, he thought, scratching idly at his left forearm. 

He smiled as he thought of the flowers that now covered his withered Mark. “New life,” Hermione had said when Draco had shown them to her way back in the early days of their friendship. “That’s just what you have made for yourself, Draco.” The tattoos were magical, always opening and closing, budding and blooming. What had started as just a handful of flowers to cover his Mark, now covered him from wrist to shoulder. They hadn’t grown any further now for four years, and Draco was tempted to get a matching garden on his right arm to even things out. Maybe he could get something completely different to honor his family; his wife and children that had changed him so. He wondered what Hermione would think of that. 

He snuck a peek at the clock on the mantle. Sigh. It was barely nine. If Hermione were home, she’d be tucked into the couch with a knitted blanket across her lap, a book in one hand, and her reading glasses balanced oh so cutely on her nose. Her hair would be up in one of those knot things on top of her head, with a few errant curls trying to break free because she’d put it all up so quickly and carelessly. He’d have a book in his hand as well, or possibly work papers. It wouldn’t matter. He’d spend most of his time peeking over at her, and waiting for her to catch him looking. Then she’d ask “What?” and brush at her face, and he’d comment on how beautiful she is and how lucky he is that she’s with him, and she’d blush and say “Oh, go on” and he’d put aside whatever he was pretending to be reading. He’d tell her to budge up, and settle himself on the couch with her, her legs across his lap. He may start rubbing her feet. She’d put her book on the table (carefully marking her place of course) and they’d talk about their respective days. Problems at work, issues with friends, etc. Draco would maneuver his way up to start massaging her calves, and Hermione would say “I know what you’re up to” and he’d feign innocence, but she’d grin, and then they’d kiss. 

Thump.

Draco shook his head. What was he doing? He’d been sitting here with his hand on his cock, fantasizing about his wife like some schoolboy. He straightened himself up. The thud he’d heard was just Scorpius getting up to use the loo. Draco listened for the flush, then the water as Scorpius washed his hands (thank whomever is up there), and then the patter of his little feet heading back to bed. Once Scorpius had closed his bedroom door once more, Draco got up from his own chair. Thankfully his erection had gone down. He couldn’t believe he’d been mooning about his own wife. She’d been gone for mere hours, not days. He checked the time once more. 

He had no idea how much longer she would be gone. Draco figured that if things were going well that a hen night could go till near dawn. Surely Hermione wouldn’t be gone that long though.

He wouldn’t dwell on it. He didn’t want to be some pitiful little husband that moped about just because his wife wasn’t home. Hermione really did need this night out. She never got out anymore. Sure, back in their early days of marriage, he and Hermione had always found time to go out for dinners with friends, drinks at the Leaky with friends, even the occasional club or concert with the gang. Then the misses happened. Their friends had mostly all settled down as well. Nobody seemed to have time to get together anymore at all. Even he and Hermione hadn’t had a real date night since Scopius was tiny. He hadn’t taken well to bottles and so Hermione always had to be available for feedings. Babysitters, even doting grandparents, were not an option. Hermione loved being a mother, though Draco was still surprised when she decided to continue working from home after her maternity leave ended. 

“Are you sure?” he’d asked a million times. “I don’t have to work. I could be a stay at home dad.”

“I want this,” she’d told him. “If that ever changes, I can always go back to the office.”

Draco had never seen her as the stay at home, Molly Weasley type. He knew Hermione. She needed stimulating conversation not flash cards with toddlers. He always tried to ensure that she found outlets outside of the kids. He also tried to make sure that he did his best to step up and shoulder the burden with her. It still never seemed enough.

Ah, sod it. He was getting broody again. Why couldn’t he just enjoy the night to himself? He was sure Hermione wasn’t sitting moody at the bar or club or wherever they were right now, moaning over the history of their marriage and life with kids. Draco went for his whisky only to find the tumbler empty. Should he pour himself another or go on up to bed? Neither. He’d switch to water and find an amusing book or something to occupy his time. Surely then he could stop thinking about how much he was missing his wife after a few hours, and wondering how much longer till she’d be home to snuggle up to him in their bed. 

Hell, Hermione was surely out there having a grand time. She was probably dancing right now with her girlfriends, and laughing over some creep trying to pull the married ladies when he knew good and well that he was far too young and nowhere near deserving of their time. She’d probably be commiserating with Ginny and Fleur about how it had been far too long since they’d let their hair down like this. Right now, she too was probably switching to water as not to get too pissed. “I have kids, you know,” she’d be saying. And the others would be agreeing. Maybe they’d realize that it was after ten at night, and their husbands would be sorely missing them and they really ought to head on home, don’t you think? 

Draco found himself so hopeful over his train of thinking that he actually went to peek out of the front room curtains. Would she apparate home? Maybe take the Knight Bus? Maybe even a black cab? Well, whichever route she chose, Draco really didn’t want to come off as the weird man who couldn’t wait for his wife to come home. It really would be best if he took himself to bed. Then Hermione would see him fast asleep when she came tip-toeing in, and know that he’d handled her absence just fine thank you very much, and she should feel free to plan more fun evenings out with the girls. Maybe they could make it a regular weekly occurrence. 

Well, no, that’s taking it a bit far, Draco thought as he stripped down to his boxers. But maybe once a month. Twice at most. 

He did truly hope that she was having a good time. So what if he missed her laying next to him right now? He knew she would be coming home to him. Any minute now. He should just get some sleep. The kids really had taken it out of him tonight. 

He closed his eyes. Then he rolled to his side. Soon he flopped over to lay on his stomach. Before long, he was on his other side. There. That was the sweet spot. 

His eyes popped back open. Draco could smell the scent of Hermione’s hair wafting gently over to him from her pillowcase. Maybe he should snuggle it so that he could smell her and feel as though he was cuddling her. No. That would be silly. Plus, Hermione would never let him live it down if she came in to find her pillow tucked up tight in his arms as he spooned it. 

Draco kicked the duvet off and began pacing the length of their bedroom. He just needed to tire himself out. That’s it. He flicked his wand at a wad of paper from the wastebasket in the corner, and set it soaring around the room like a golden snitch. He chased after it (quietly, mind you, as not to wake the children), snatching it out of the air every time it came within reach, and then setting it off again. All too soon, however, he grew bored of his little game, so he threw on a dressing gown, and wandered out into the hall to put his ear to the doors of his children’s bedrooms. Of course, they were all three sleeping soundly, just as Draco should be. 

He made his way down the hall to the playroom and began tidying up the toys. He packed up Scorpius’ crayons, and even arranged them in color gradients in their box. He lined up the stuffed toys by size, then quickly changed it to have favorites in the front. He alphabetized the books till he felt cross-eyed and trudged back to his room. It was now well after midnight. Surely he’d be able to sleep. Just one quick whiff of Hermione’s pillow… 

Out in the lane Draco heard a loud pop that he prayed wouldn’t wake the kids. So Hermione has opted for the Knight Bus. He listened as the bus tumbled far too quickly up to their gate, and came to a screeching halt. Should he check and make sure the mailbox hadn’t been damaged? No. He heard lots of female voices raving about a “top night” and “must do this again” and giggling followed by the creak of the gate opening and closing. Once he heard the front door open and close, Draco made sure that he was tucked into bed with his eyes closed tight. He tried to slow his breathing while Hermione crept up the stairs. He heard her stop outside each of the kid’s rooms before she finally crept into the master. He kept his eyes closed while she undressed and did her nightly routine of washing away her makeup and such. Finally, finally, she inched the duvet back on her side and slid ever so carefully into their bed. He felt the mattress move as she leaned over to see if he was truly asleep. Draco couldn’t help but grin as she settled back into her pillows. She’d bought the ruse. Draco sat up so quickly and enveloped her in his arms that Hermione let out a small cry that he silenced with a kiss. 

“I didn’t expect you to be awake,” Hermione said sheepishly. “Was it a rough night?”

“No,” Draco said before kissing her neck. “We have perfect children that caused not a single fuss.”

“Unf,” she groaned eloquently as his mouth laved away at her collarbone. “I know better than to believe that.”

“It’s true,” he said as he palmed her breast through the silk gown. “I just had trouble getting to sleep.”

“Oh?” Hermione maneuvered her hands to his hips and teased the waistband. “You’re not one that usually has any trouble in that area. I seem to recall that I married one of those annoying men that- oh God, yes- umm, yes, falls asleep when his head hits the- mmmmm- pillow.”

Draco chuckled darkly as he licked at her navel. “Well, you see, it turns out I need something to make that happen.”

Her breath caught and her back bowed up. She opened her legs to give him better access for his troubles. “What’s that?” she near moaned. 

“A goodnight kiss.” And with that, his lips met hers. 


End file.
